


boy you make me make bad decisions

by burakinnon



Series: stuck with you [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2019-2020 NHL Season, Cabin Fic, Domestic Fluff, Fishing, Hot Tub Sex, Idiots in Love, M/M, Soft Hockey Boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:53:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25699123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burakinnon/pseuds/burakinnon
Summary: “Nate?”“Um, can you pick me up?” Nate all but flounders out, gripping his phone tight and mentally  berates himself for sounding souncool.“Where are you?” André says after a pause, Nate can practically visualize the confused look André must be wearing at this moment.“At the airport?” he supplies.“Oh. Okay.” Another pause. “Like...at the Malmö airport?”“Yes?” Nate confirms, a sense of trepidation creeping up in his skin. He wishes he owned more than one functioning brain cell, so he wouldn’t do crazy shit like fly thousands of miles to his crush’s home country in the middle of a pandemic. Dick really does make you do stupid things.---Or, two idiots in a cabin. and a hot tub
Relationships: Andre Burakovsky/Nathan MacKinnon
Series: stuck with you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1892098
Comments: 8
Kudos: 139





	boy you make me make bad decisions

**Author's Note:**

> lets pretend they followed lock down rules okay. disclaimer for inaccuracies and etc. just wanted to write fluff

It’s two weeks into the NHL’s postponement of the 2019-2020 season due to the coronavirus outbreak and Nate is already bored out of his routine back in his Nova Scotian home. He feels like he’s about to go insane. He already misses the regular banter and presence of his teammates, as much as he’d hate to admit it. 

Most of all, he misses André and his easy going nature and contagious bubbly personality. He also misses his smile and the way André holds onto every word Nate says when he’s talking about how to improve his hockey. 

Nate has been pining for André since he joined the Avalanche. He can’t blame himself. André is just that easy to love.

He’s been feeling antsy lately, he hasn’t gotten out of his house after it was advised to stay indoors as much as possible, when he makes an impulsive decision of flying to Malmö, Sweden before stricter travel restrictions get implemented. 

The moment he realizes that maybe this wasn’t the best idea he ever had was when he awakens from his slumber, the pilot announcing to buckle up and get ready for landing. There’s no turning back now, he thinks and hopes that André isn’t dead in a ditch somewhere because he’s the only person he knows from this area. Since he’s also the main reason why Nate decides to leave everything back in Nova Scotia and hauled his ass to Sweden in the first place. He doesn’t want to resort to an embarrassing phone call to Gabe and ask if he has a spare room for him.

After an hour of protocols and baggage claim, he’s finally sitting down on one of the chairs by a Starbucks inside the airport. He moves his face mask to take a sip of his iced Americano, needing the caffeine. He sighs, finally getting the courage to dial André’s number. It rings for a bit before he hears a deep voice rumble out from the static.

“Hello?” 

This was the first time he’d heard from André in two weeks. He suddenly loses a grasp of speaking English, not sure how to break the news to him that he’s at the Malmö airport. He swallows the lump in his throat. He _misses_ him so much.

“Nate?”

“Um, can you pick me up?” Nate all but flounders out, gripping his phone tight and mentally berates himself for sounding so _uncool._

“Where are you?” André says after a pause, Nate can practically visualize the confused look André must be wearing at this moment. 

“At the airport?” he supplies.

“Oh. Okay.” Another pause. “Like...at the Malmö airport?”

“Yes?” Nate confirms, a sense of trepidation creeping up in his skin. He wishes he owned more than one functioning brain cell, so he wouldn’t do crazy shit like fly thousands of miles to his crush’s home country in the middle of a pandemic. Dick really does make you do stupid things. 

“I guess I’ll pick you up then,” André finally says. “I’ll be there in 20.”

“Thank you,” Nate says, relieved. He probably thinks I’m a lunatic, he thinks as he texts André the details.

He’s standing outside under the arrivals area of the airport when a sleek black Mercedes pulls up in front of him. André exits out of his car, a huge grin on his face and Nate feels a tug inside him at the sight. 

“Nate! What a surprise!” he beams at him, walking towards the trunk of his car and opening it. Nate makes the move and places his luggage there, along with his carry on. He smiles at André, not trusting himself to speak just yet. He knows how confused and weirded out André probably is, because he’s in the same boat as him.

“What brought you here?” André asks when they’re both inside the car. It’s warm inside.

Nate’s brain frizzled out for a moment, still trying to come up for a justified reason on why he flew here out of nowhere. He just can’t say, _it’s because I missed seeing your stupid face_ , or _I’m here to eat your ass like a starving man_ , because it would be too fucking creepy.

Nate shrugs. “Got bored at home. ” He clears his throat. “Thought I was gonna go crazy. So, here I am, I guess.” He gives him a smirk. “And, I wanted a training buddy.”

André hums. “Isn’t Crosby, like your neighbor or something?” He begins to drive. 

“Yeah, but he doesn’t need _my_ help.”

“And I do?!” André says indignantly. 

Nate nods and sweeps his gaze over André’s body. “You’re like a pool noodle.”

“I am not!” André sputters and turns to him, “Take that back!” Nate laughs and makes a show of shaking his head. 

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’.

“I will leave you at the side of the road. Make you walk all the way to Stockholm for Gabe,” André says threateningly. 

Nate rolls his eyes at him. “I’d like to see you try. I’m like, infinitely stronger than you.”

“And here I am, thinking you came here because you missed me,” André says with a dramatic sigh and Nate freezes for a second.

“Yeah, right. Who would miss your ugly mug?” 

André huffs out and pushes Nate’s shoulder playfully. “You don’t mean that.” He makes a turn, entering the busy road. “What hotel are you staying at? I’ll drop you off, free of charge.”

“Oh, uh...yeah, about that,” Nate trails off and sneaks a glance towards André. “I was hoping you have a couch I could crash on?” He mumbles sheepishly.

André glances at him, head tilted at him for a moment before looking back at the road. “Okay,” he says slowly. “I’ve been staying at my family’s vacation cabin. You can stay in the guest bedroom?”

Nate nods and flashes him an apologetic smile. “Yeah, that works. M’sorry about barging in like this. It’s all so sudden.”

André shakes his head, “It’s okay, I appreciate the company.” He flashes a dazzling smile at Nate. Nate has to look away, it’s like looking straight at the sun. 

“Thanks,” Nate mumbles, suddenly feeling hot.

* * *

Nate gets settled in the guest bedroom after an hour of driving through the outskirts of the city to the cabin. The log cabin is secluded enough, surrounded by mile long trees, and no neighbors nearby. It’s a nice place for a quiet retreat. The air seems different as well, it feels cleaner and crisp. It’s a refreshing atmosphere, and Nate is glad that he made the decision to spend quarantining with André. He finishes unpacking, there’s not much to unpack in the first place, and heads out to the kitchen, where André is putting groceries away.

“Good thing you called when I was doing my grocery run,” André says when Nate takes a seat on one of the barstools. André is wearing a grey thread worn sweater and a pair of sweatpants. He looks comfortable. Nate watches as his curls bounce as he moves around the kitchen, putting groceries away. “You would’ve been waiting an hour at the airport,” he gives a pointed look at him. 

“You should’ve at least told me like, a day before or something,” André mumbles. Nate feels bad.

“This was...unplanned. I literally just got my ticket not even like,” Nate looks down at his apple watch, “30 hours ago.”He scratches the back of his neck, a small blush creeping to his face. He can feel André’s questioning scrutiny directed at him. He wonders what André is thinking.

He clears his throat, “Anyway, I didn’t know you were the type to go off-the-grid-ish.” He’d noticed how much André seems to feed off of social and physical contact. Grubi had informed him that André was known as some kind of ‘cuddle monster’ (Grubi’s words, not his) back in their previous team, when he caught him glaring daggers at the back of Nikita Zadorov’s head when André was hanging off of him like some kind of human octopus, demanding for a piggy back ride.

André shrugs, “I was staying at my parents’ house for a week and I could only take so much nagging about hockey from my dad.” He takes a package of green grapes from the fridge and Nate watches him pop one in his mouth. He follows the line of his throat as he swallows down the grape, having the urge to lick his throat. He forces himself to look away and wills his obscene thoughts to die down. “Also, my therapist told me it would be a good idea. So, I tried it. It’s been working well for me for the past 2 days.”

“Oh, I don’t blame you. A break from hockey is sometimes good,” Nate says and slips off from the barstool to fill a glass of water, suddenly feeling thirsty. 

“Hah! You should take your own advice,” André quips. “Mr. Hockey robot,” he teases with a quirk of his lips. 

Nate just rolls his eyes at him, grabs a grape around André and aims it at the back of his head. He watches it bounce off his head. “I’m not a hockey robot,” he says flatly.

“Hey! I know you’re not programmed for anything else other than hockey, but wasting food is bad!” André retaliates by grabbing the package of grapes out of Nate’s reach, when Nate tries to steal another one to pelt André with.

“Oh my god, just shut up,” he says, laughing and rough houses with André, not willing to give up. André shrieks with laughter as Nate resorts to tickling his sides, dropping the package of grapes onto the floor, grapes rolling out everywhere. “Oops,” he says.

“That’s dirty, Mackinnon!” André exclaims when he finally gets out of Nate’s reach. “You’re cleaning this up,” he says with a pointed finger directed at him. “Also you owe me a package of grapes now.”

* * *

They’re both sitting at opposite sides of the couch, watching a movie called, The Cabin in the Woods, because André thought it would be funny and relevant, after they had their dinner of baked chicken breasts and steamed vegetables. 

He has his feet up on the coffee table in front, eyes trained at the screen. He’d been noticing André slowly inching towards him throughout the movie but decides to ignore it. He can’t help but to jump when he feels André rest his head on his thigh, curling up next to him like an oversized cat. He stiffens at the warm contact.

“Is this okay?” André turns to look at him, Nate notices how long his eyelashes are and notes how close André’s head is to his crotch. He nods, not wanting to let him know how strained his voice would be if he speaks up.

He wills himself to relax a few minutes after André decided to use his thigh as a pillow and idly starts playing with his hair. André leans into the touch. _He’s like a cat_ , he thinks. 

The _Thor_ actor dies and he hears André sighs dejectedly. He feels him turn to look up at him. He looks back down, noting how good he looks down there, just mere inches away from his dick. He wills himself to think about hockey statistics to stray away from thinking of impure thoughts. _You just got here, Mackinnon! Behave._

“Who do you think would die first if the whole Avs roster were in a horror movie?” André asks, turning back to the screen. 

Nate hums, giving it a thought. “Probably you,” he says, tongue in cheek. 

André pinches his thigh, which earned him an indignant _‘hey!’_ from Nate. “Not even Kammy? Or Frankie?” 

“Nope,” he pops the ‘p’. “You’d be the first one to die, c’mon. You’re too trusting. Also, Frankie would be like, the last one to die.” He watches André’s cheeks turn red. “Didn’t you get into a random person’s car one time or something?”

“How do you even know that?” André sits up to look at him fast enough that he almost headbutts Nate. He chews on his lip thoughtfully for a second. “Okay, _fine_ , you’re kinda right.”

Nate darts his eyes anywhere but him, looking for help, as if the furniture would start talking. “Uh, I have my sources?” he says lamely, looking back at the screen and watching another lead actor die. He’s not going to admit that he went through multiple internet articles along with hours of game highlights or André as soon after he learned about the news of the trade. It was part of his _research_.

He can see the pointed look André is giving him in his peripheral vision before André settles back down to watch the rest of the movie. “You’d be the next one to die after me,” André says thoughtfully.

“And why is that?” Nate feels offended.

“Because you’d get yourself killed looking for me.”

Nate doesn’t say anything, just thankful that it’s dark enough that André can’t see how red his face is currently. He diverts his attention back to the movie.

The movie isn’t even _that_ scary but André is squirming in his lap, which isn’t doing Nate a favor at all considering how close he is to his dick and how sexually frustrated Nate is for the past weeks. He looks up at the ceiling and hopes for some kind of divine intervention to end his suffering. 

“Would you stop,” he says with a strained voice after a while. 

“It’s scary,” André mumbles innocently. He rolls his eyes at him. 

“You’re the one who picked this movie.” Nate pokes at his shoulder. “I wanted to watch _Our Planet._ ”

“Ugh, boring! Plus, I already watched that one. It’s so sad, the walruses kept falling off the cliffs.” 

“Well, I haven’t seen it yet.” Nate says with another poke at André’s shoulder, “and spoiler alert. Not cool, Burk.”

Nate survives watching the movie with André, who finally stopped squirming on his lap after telling him to stop. André retires for the night, Nate not used to the 5 hour time difference. He calls his mom to let him know that he’s with André in Sweden and briefly explains how he doesn’t know when he’ll be back. He fakes being tired due to his 21 hour flight to his mom to avoid any more pressing questions he doesn’t know the answers to. He reminds her to be careful and that he loves her, promptly ending the call after. He stares at his ceiling for a while and wonders what the fuck he gotten himself into.

He goes to the bathroom to get ready for bed and pads quietly back into his room, careful not to make too much noise. He slips into his bed and lets his mind wander.

He thinks about how André looked like earlier, in his comfortable well worn sweater and squirming near his crotch. He feels himself grow and promptly shoves a hand into his boxers. He jacks off at the thought of André in between his legs and comes at the fantasy of him looking up at him through wet eyelashes, mouth full of Nate’s dick.

“Fuck!” he groans through his pillow and tucks himself back in. He briefly hears a faint thud from the wall he shares with André, but doesn’t think too much of it and lets sleep overtake him.

* * *

He wakes up at noon, cursing that he needs to get used to the time zone fast so he can get back to his routine he’s been following back home. He can’t afford to wake up at noon everyday. He’s Nathan Mackinnon. He has standards to uphold. 

He blearily rubs his eyes with a yawn and gets up to go to the bathroom with a set of new clothes to freshen up.

André is in the kitchen, unpacking more groceries and Nate leans against the countertop to watch him. 

“You went somewhere?” Nate peers through one of the bags. He sees two bags of sweet potatoes. “Is this for me?” 

André coughs, pink cheeked. “Yeah, I got some for you, knowing the fact that it’s your model’s main source of food.”

Nate groans and dramatically rolls his eyes at him. “Your robot jokes are lame.”

André sticks his tongue out at him. He gestures to a paper bag. “Also, I got you lunch.” Nate’s stomach growls in return.

After lunch, André shows him around the cabin, showing where the workout/game room is at and the second bathroom, if he ever needed it. It’s a decent sized cabin with a modern rustic interior. It’s cozy and homey, so different from his cold and sterile Nova Scotian home with the same modern interior design that all hockey players seem to gravitate towards. 

“This place is really nice, does your family use it often?” 

André shrugs. “Sometimes we just use this as a guest house, but this is the first time I’m actually staying here. Usually I’m at my parents house and spend the rest of the summer in Stockholm training with Backstrom and Johansson.” 

Nate nods along. 

“Sorry there’s not much to do,” André says. “I can drive you around the coast? The view is really pretty, especially when the sun sets.” He bites his lip, Nate can sense his apprehension.

Nate shrugs. “Sure, why not.” It kinda sounds romantic, feeling a surge of hope bursts within him that maybe, just maybe, André shares the same feelings as him. 

“Great! We can do that in a few hours, then,” André beams at him.

It takes them 40 minutes of driving to get to the coast, _The Weeknd_ songs blaring throughout while André hums along his favorite artist. He shares childhood stories of growing up here and shares some hockey ones as well. Nate does the same thing in return, sharing laughter and the perils of overbearing parents. It’s nice and such a change of pace and scenery compared to back home. 

They spend hours just talking and enjoying getting to know more of each other. The sun is beginning to set and André hops out of the car, gesturing for Nate to do the same. André takes a picture of the both of them, an arm around each other and smiling wide at the camera while the sun sets in the background. Nate doesn’t really remember the last time he was as happy as right now. 

André is happily tapping away on his phone, most likely making up some dumb caption to post it on instagram. Nate watches his profile, framed by the setting sun, a faint warm glow outlining his features. 

His breath hitches at the sight and André must’ve heard it because he turns to look at him. He turns away fast to watch the sunset. He feels like some heroine in a sappy movie, waiting for the lead guy to kiss him. He mentally barfs at the thought, mostly because he can’t fantasize about kissing André without wanting to explode. _What is wrong with me._

They both take more pictures before driving back to the cabin. 

Nate’s phone buzzes, a flurry of message notifications from his teammates and friends asking what the fuck is he doing in Sweden all of the sudden. André must’ve posted the picture of the two of them on instagram. He puts his phone on do not disturb, not in the mood to explain that it’s because he’s just a thirsty dumb jock with impulsive problems.

André parks on the gravel driveway of the cabin. “C’mon! I have steaks thawing on the sink. Let’s go grill them!” 

Nate follows suit, a huge grin on his face.

* * *

Nate is out on the back porch, grilling steaks. He doesn’t notice André behind him until he feels him rest his chin on his shoulder. He slightly jumps at the sudden contact and briefly feels two warm hands on his hips to steady him. “Jesus, you fucking scared me.”

“Sorry,” he hears André say and moves to stand next to him, but he doesn’t sound apologetic at all. 

He points at the hot tub near the grill with a pair of tongs. “I didn’t know there’s a hot tub here.”

“Oh, that? Yeah. I can fill it up with water and we can use it.” 

“Isn’t it still too cold for that? We’ll freeze.”

“It’s a _hot tub,_ Nate. Plus, we’d be inside anyway, not outside,” André argues pointedly. He kinda makes sense.

“It’ll be cold as soon as we get out.”

“Then I’d just have to warm you back up again.” André says it so easily and Nate can’t help but to gape and stare at him, brain short circuiting and supplying hundreds of images about different ways of how André can _warm him up_ back again. André stares back, as if it’s a game of chicken.

A pause. 

“The steak is burning,” André breaks the silence and cheerily walks back into the cabin. Nate curses and moves his attention from André’s retreating form back to the steaks that have turned a little too well done. “I’ll get the plates!” André calls out from the kitchen.

They’re fully sated from their steaks, André is once again curled up on his lap while the soothing voice of _Attenborough_ talking about global warming fills the living room. André is snoring lightly as Nate idly plays with his hair. 

He finally messages everybody back and rolls his eyes at Gabe and Tyson’s knowing messages on why exactly he’s in Sweden. Nate hates how they think alike and know too much sometimes. 

Impulsively, he quietly takes a picture of André’s sleeping form on his lap. He looks even more baby faced like this. He looks at the time and lightly shakes André awake. “Hey, wake up.”

André grumbles and buries his head on his lap, dangerously near his dick and Nate all but panics.

“Uh,” Nate starts and shakes André’s shoulder again. “I need to go to the bathroom. And I can’t, I can’t get up-” He can feel André’s warm breath on him, despite the layers of clothing in between them. His dick starts to take interest and Nate panics.

“I’m going to piss all over this couch if you don’t get up,” he almost screams, hysterical.

André blindly shoots up, his head colliding with Nate _hard._ Nate’s eyes water immediately and feels a spike of sudden blinding pain, grabbing his nose instinctively and feeling something warm beginning to drip down his nose.

“Ow, what the fuck André,” he cries out. He’s dripping blood all over his shirt.

André shrieks at the sight of him. “Oh my God, I’m _so_ sorry!” He looks around, eyes wide with worry, before landing on the box of tissues at one of the end tables and grabs a handful of tissues to shove at Nate’s hands. 

He grabs at the tissues and wipes at the blood, pinching the soft part of his nose to stop the bleeding. He walks to the bathroom with André trailing behind him, hugging the box of tissues and profusely spewing out apologies to him. Nate kinda wants to kiss him, even when he feels bloody and gross and in pain.

The bleeding finally stops after a few minutes and he inspects his nose, sighing in relief that it’s not broken. André is still saying a litany of apologies, sitting on the toilet seat, looking up at Nate with wide brown eyes full of guilt and concern. 

“Ah, It’s okay. I shouldn’t have tried to wake you up like that,” he says softly. He winces at the jolt of sharp pain when he talks. 

André pouts at him, eyebrows still scrunched up in worry. 

“Do you have any Tylenol?” Nate asks. 

“Yeah! I have a bottle in my room,” André all but jumps out. “I’ll go get it!”

* * *

Nate wakes up one day when he hears a dog barking and scratching out his door. Confused, he gets out from the bed and opens the door. A light brown labrador jumps up on him and starts licking at the side of his face. 

“Woah, where did you come from?” Nate asks and starts petting the dog, keeping his face out of the dog’s reach. “Is this your dog, Burky?” He yells down the hallway and gently pushes the dog off of him and makes his way to the living room.

André is leaning over the flat screen TV, plugging a number of cables attached to a PS4 console. Nate sees a box of video games by the coffee table and begins to look through the titles.

“Yup! His name is Magnus. Did he wake you up? Sorry about that,” André says. “I went to my parents’ house and got him. Along with my PS4 and some packages I ordered online.”

“Sweet, I can kick your ass again in Mario Kart, then,” Nate says and feels Magnus nose his free hand and pets him, tail wagging against the coffee table excitedly. “He looks like a dog version of Gabe.”

André laughs. “I know, if I’d known that I would get traded to the Avs, I would’ve named him Gabe.” He pauses and Nate feels André staring at him.

Nate looks up and feels defensive all of the sudden. “What?”

“Magnus can also pass as a dog version of you, now that I’m looking at the two of you,” André says thoughtfully. Nate feels affronted.

“Excuse you, If I was a dog, I would be a German Shepherd,” Nate says. 

André rolls his eyes at him and giggles. “No, you’d be a little tiny mean Chihuahua.”

“You little shit,” Nate says. “Come here.” And he menacingly starts to walk towards where André is at, having the urge to give him a noogie. André breaks into a run and they chase each other around the cabin, André laughing maniacally and throwing pillows at him as Magnus trails after them.

So Nate spends the next two weeks with André and Magnus, going through their watchlist while André curling up next to him becomes a norm. He meets his parents one day, André’s mom bringing home cooked foods for the two of them to eat for a few days. Nate tries not to look into the knowing look André’s mom gives him every time they come to visit. 

They flirt and dance around each other, cook and work out together, argue about the importance of following their nutrition plan, and banter constantly like a married couple. 

It feels very...domestic. 

André never asks when Nate is going back home. Nate hasn’t even thought about leaving anytime soon. André doesn’t seem to mind either. Travel restrictions are getting stricter and numbers of cases are rising exponentially. He thinks it will be a long while before he has to go home. It’s not like he wants to anyway. He likes spending time with André. And Nate thinks that André likes spending time with him too. 

Nate is playing _Red Dead Redemption 2_ , a couple hours in the game, while André is on the floor playing with Magnus. 

André is speaking in Swedish at Magnus, Nate not having a clue with a single word he’s saying but it’s probably along the lines of, _Who’s a good boy? You are! You’re a good boy!_ Or other dog speak people tend to use on their dogs. Magnus showers André with dog kisses and André giggles along. 

Nate puts down the controller and reaches for his phone sitting on the coffee table and pulls up a conversation with Gabe.

_gabe is it normal to be jealous of a dog_

_Context??_  


Nate sneakily takes a picture of André and Magnus and sends it to Gabe.

 _LMAO The Dogg™ is jealous of a dog_ 😂😂

Nate rolls his eyes at his screen. _ur no help at all_ 😠

* * *

André enters from the back door one evening with Magnus trailing behind him. Nate looks up from his phone, scrolling through his emails and sorting out his junk. 

“I finally filled up the hot tub!” He exclaims. “Want to try it out?”

“Sure, give me a second.”

They’re both in their boxers, sitting across from each other in the hot tub. Nate has a bottle of beer (he’s allowed to cheat once in a while) and André has a glass of red wine that’s too sweet for Nate’s tastes because André apparently can’t stand the taste of beer.

“Well, this is relaxing,” André says after a while, an empty wine glass on the table beside the hot tub. He hums and slides deeper into the water until his body is completely submerged, save for his face. 

“Mhmm,” he says in agreement and lets himself slide deeper into the water, mirroring André and closes his eyes and just relaxes. “You should’ve filled it up from the beginning. We could’ve been doing this since day one.”

“I know, right?” André replies. They bask in the moonlight, just relaxing for a couple of minutes.

Nate hears water splash and feels a sudden weight on his lap, hips caged by a set of powerful thighs. He snaps his eyes open, his hands grabbing onto André’s hip on instinct. 

“I was serious about what I said last week,” André says, a predatory glint in his eyes and Nate can’t help but to take a huge gulp. 

He sees André watch the line of his throat as he swallows. “Oh,” he says faintly. 

“Why are you really here, Nate?” André bites his own lip, looking down at Nate with a searching gaze.

“I wanted to see you,” Nate blurts out. “I guess I missed you.” He grips tightly on his hips, thumbs over the jutting bones that peeks through the waistline of André’s boxers.

André leans down to capture his lips, soft and sweet. Nate kisses back, desperately and lets out an embarrassing whine. He’d been thinking of kissing André like this for what seems like _ages_. His hand trails up to settle on André’s nape, coaxing a broken moan.

“Took you long enough,” André says as he catches his breath after breaking the kiss. “Jesus, Nate. Weren’t you ever going to make a first move?”

Nate shakes his head. “Probably not,” he admits. 

André rolls his eyes at him. “You’re so helpless.” He grinds his hips down, water splashing around them. “We could’ve been doing this since day one too.” Nate groans and shuts André up with an opened mouthed kiss, licks the sweetness of his mouth.

They make out for a while, until Nate feels André shiver against him, his dick poking Nate’s belly. “Let’s get inside and warm you up,” he mumbles against André’s throat and brushes a hand over his bulge, causing André to cry out.

“Fuck yes, please,” André says as he hoists himself up from straddling Nate and gets out of the hot tub with wobbly knees. 

Nate follows him suit, shivering as the cold air meets his skin. The heat of the cabin is welcoming and he follows the wet trail of footprints that André left, leading to André’s bedroom. He pauses at the doorway, at the sight of André lounging on the bed, boxers already left forgotten on the floor. His cock twitches.

André looks at him expectantly, sweeping his gaze down Nate’s body appreciatively. He meets Nate’s hungry look with his own. “Well?” He pats the area in front of him and Nate has to pinch the side of his thigh to make sure this is real life and makes his way in, the door shutting with a soft thud.

André wraps a hand around Nate’s wrist and pulls him onto the bed when Nate gets close enough, falling onto the bed and braces his palms to cage André underneath him, resuming on kissing him. His lips taste slightly sweet, a remnant of the wine and Nate opens his mouth to slip a tongue in.

“Take this off, it’s dripping on me and it’s cold,” André breathes out when they finally pull away from each other, tugging on Nate’s wet boxers. Nate complies and shimmies out of it, throwing the boxers over his head, hearing a wear _splat!_ as it connects with the floor. 

He braces a hand by André’s head while the other hand takes a hold of them both, causing André to buck up against him, eyes fluttering close. Nate tugs and relishes the saccharine sounds André makes, determined to hear more. 

“Fuck,” He breathes out. He’s embarrassingly already close, months of pining and lonely nights with his right hand, fantasies of how André would look like under him, would do that to a man. He loosens his grip of the hand around their cocks, causing André to growl at the loss of the tight contact. 

“What-”

“Sorry, I’m- I’m close,” he admits and leans down close enough that his lips are almost touching the column of André’s throat. He can feel him shiver underneath him. “I want to make you come first,” he whispers and sucks on the mole just beneath André’s jaw.

André’s breath hitches and nods, wrapping his legs around Nate’s hips. “Yeah- you go do that,” he moans out as Nate bites down his throat. “And hurry up. Please,” André groans.

Nate makes his way down, trailing kisses and bites down the expanse of André’s torso. He wants to mark him up, let everybody know that André is his. He pauses on a nipple, closes his mouth around it until he feels André tug on his hair, who begs Nate to fucking touch his dick already. He presses an apologetic kiss and continues his way down, settling down in between André’s legs and swallows him down and sucks.

André’s back arches from the bed and scrambles to hold onto something, one hand tangled in Nate’s hair and the other grabbing on a pillow. “Fuck,” his voice rough.

André feels hot and heavy on Nate’s tongue and Nate is determined to fit as much of André as possible. He slides his mouth down as much as he could and hums around André’s cock, holding down André’s hips hard enough that it will bruise to keep him steady.

He takes André apart with his mouth, motivated by the raw moans and curses that André is making. 

André chokes a groaned out, _“Nate.”_ And comes in Nate’s mouth with a shudder. Nate tries his best to swallow everything André gives, but some still manage to trickle out. He uses his thumb to lick them off, looking up at André through his lashes. “Jesus Christ,” André says, chest heaving. 

André pulls Nate up and steals a kiss before flipping their position over, trails wet and desperate kisses down Nate’s chest and returns the favor.

* * *

They wake up the next day, legs tangled together on Nate’s bed, having to move beds last night because of the wet mess they left on André’s bed. Magnus is asleep at the corner by the door, snoring softly.

André is curled up next to him, an arm around Nate’s stomach, pressing soft kisses in between the junction of Nate’s jaw and neck. Nate basks in his attention, not wanting this moment to end. He still feels like he’s in some sort of lucid wet dream.

“Am I still dreaming?” Nate mumbles out, heavy with sleep and smiles when he hears André lets out a snort next to him. 

“Nope,” André says and moves to straddle his hips, grinning down at him.

“Do you fish?” Nate asks André when he finally settles down next to him on the couch, fresh out of the shower. He had noticed the landmark sign for a lake just a few miles away from the cabin when they made their downtown grocery trips.

André gives him a funny look. “Do I look like I fish?”

He blinks at him. He has a point. “Well, no, but it could be fun?”

“You don’t look like you fish, either.” 

He rolls his eyes at him. “I know _enough_.” He shrugs. “It’s something different than watching Netflix or playing video games all day.”

André sighs at him. “Fishing sounds boring, though.” He slides up closer to Nate. “I can think of a hundred more exciting things to do instead of fishing,” he says in a low voice.

“Oh,” Nate says. “Well, I wanna do those things too, but…”

“But?” André rests his chin on Nate’s shoulder, waiting for him to continue. Nate can feel André’s breath tickle his throat. He places an arm around him so André can settle beside him comfortably.

“But, I was thinking that it could be, y’know. A first date or something,” Nate mumbles out, cheeks red.

“A first date?” André perks up. He pauses and knits his eyebrows together. “I thought we were already kind of dating.”

“Wait, what?” Nate turns to him. 

“I thought we were already dating,” André repeats. “Isn’t that why you came up here in the first place? To woo me?” 

Nate just gapes at him, his brain clearly not working anymore. “No?” he lies. “Where did you hear that from?”

“Mikko.” André pushes at his shoulder playfully, rolling his eyes. “Also, like, you can’t ‘no homo’ the fact that you came all the way here from Canada.” He gives Nate a dimpled grin. “I could be dumb sometimes, but I’m not _that_ dumb.” 

Nate curses Mikko in his head, _the traitor_ , and looks anywhere but André, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. “Was it that obvious?” he splutters.

“Kind of?” Andre says. “At first, I thought you were going to nag me about hockey or talk about how I need to shoot more.”

“I don’t _nag_.”

“Yeah you do,” Andre says. “But you’ve hardly talked about hockey this whole time, so I put two and two together. You’re here for a booty call.”

Nate flounders. “I- I’m not-”  


“Shut up,” André says with a dramatic eye roll and smashes their lips together hard.

* * *

So, they’re officially dating now. They’re _boyfriends._ Nate is giddy at the thought, feels like he’s back in middle school again when his crush finally gives notice to him.

He texts Barrie about this, who congratulates him for finally getting his head out of his ass. Gabe and Erik text back similar things and Nate can’t help but to feel slightly offended. He looks down where André is situated on his lap as they watch an episode of _Chopped._

He goes back to petting André’s tousled curls. It had grown long enough that in the mornings, it looks like a bird nest. It’s also the perfect length to grab and pull when André is in between his legs, eagerly swallowing him down.

Nate buys a pair of fishing poles, one for him and one for André at one of the fishing supply stores a couple of miles away, a few days after the rain had finally stopped. He also buys a box of lures along with a small cooler, just in case they catch anything. 

André drives them up to a clearing of the small lake and parks by the dock. There’s no other cars here, they have the whole lake to themselves. Magnus was left in the cabin, André not wanting him to get muddy and possibly ruin the leather of the car. Nate notes how out of place André’s rental Mercedes Benz looks like next to the weathering dock, fishing poles sticking out of one of the rear windows. 

They’re both sitting beside each other on a shared blanket, fishing lines in the water waiting for fish to start biting. They talk about the news they’ve been hearing about a potential return to play, and even argue the logistics of it. 

An hour passes by and not a single fish has tried to bite their lines. Nate wonders if they’re doing something wrong. He’s not a big fisherman, his knowledge about fishing only extends from his friends and teammates who do fish. He can tell André is getting bored when he straddles his lap, a sultry look directed at him and rests his arms around Nate.

“So,” André starts, coy. “We’re out here, alone. Just the two of us,” he trails off and waggles his eyebrows at Nate, the motive obvious. 

Nate rolls his eyes at him, and wraps one hand around André’s back while the other grips the fishing pole. “We’re not having outdoor sex here, Burky.”

André pouts at the rejection. “And why not,” he whines like a petulant child. 

“But,” Nate slips a hand to settle on André’s ass. He gives it a squeeze. “We can do it in the hot tub,” he offers as a compromise. He hears André takes a sharp inhale and suddenly, the weight of him on his lap is gone. 

“Yes, let’s go back. Right now,” André says with determination, throwing everything messily in the small empty cooler and grabs the fishing pole Nate had bought him. 

“What about the fish?” Nate says and starts reeling his fishing line, saddened at the lack of fish caught in this short trip. “We just got here like, an hour ago.” He follows André back to the car, shoving the blanket and the fishing poles through the open rear window. 

“Forget the fish. I want hot tub sex,” André demands and Nate can’t help but to laugh.

They’re both naked in the hot tub, André is on his knees on the seat, ass up in the air and gripping the sides of the tub as Nate hollows him out with his tongue, three fingers stabbing at his prostate. 

“Nate, _please get in me_ ,” André sounds wrecked. Nate has been at it for what seems like forever, enjoying the sound of André begging. “Come on,” he sobs out brokenly.

Nate finally decides to show him some mercy and pulls away after pouring more lube in. His face is shiny with spit and lube. “Alright, baby,” he says hoarsely as he leans back to take a seat and hungrily watches André straddle his hip with shaky knees. 

They both groan out as André slips Nate in, sliding down until he bottoms out. “Fucking finally,” André says and begins to ride Nate in earnest, water splashing around them and out of the tub. Nate showers him with praises, meeting André’s thrusts with his own.

“So good,” André slurs, drunk with want and braces his hands on the tub, bracketing Nate, and speeds up. He cries out when Nate’s mouth attaches on a nipple, licking and sucking. “Yes, yes. yes.” he chants.

Nate wraps a hand around André’s cock under the water and times his fist along with André’s thrusts with wanton abandon. 

André moves his hands to grip on Nate’s shoulders, nails digging in. He comes with a choked off cry and Nate brings his hips up a few more times before climaxing deep into André.

André moves away from Nate’s lap with a wince and sits besides Nate, putting a head on his shoulder. “Nice compromise,” he says breathily.

Nate hums in agreement.

* * *

May comes by in a wink of an eye and serious talks of return to play arises. Nate knows that the fairy tale of playing house with André can’t last forever. They both have to go back to work eventually.

They’re both in the kitchen trying to follow this turkey spaghetti recipe that Nate had seen in one of the magazines hanging around the house. André, wearing one of Nate’s Avalanche shirts, is messing with a spiralizer he had borrowed from his parents’ house, making zucchini noodles and Nate is forming meatballs with his palms. His phone buzzes in his pocket and washes and dries his hands quickly to look at the notification. It could be important, since they’re already being advised to start training seriously again.

Turns out, it’s just a message from Gabe. _How’s the honeymoon with your boy toy?_

Nate snorts and snaps a picture of him with an oblivious André at the back, wearing a serious expression as he works the spiralizer. Magnus is beside him, attentively watching. _were making spaghetti_ , he sends it to Gabe. 

_Aww, cute_ , Gabe texts back. _Sorry, I couldn’t send a wedding gift._

_no offense taken_

_You’ve been in Sweden for over a month and haven’t even come to visit me :(_

“Who are you talking to?” André asks as he prepares to boil a pan of water. 

“Just Gabe,” Nate says. “He’s wondering why I haven’t visited him.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him I like you more than him,” Nate replies with a grin and texts Gabe exactly that.

_So you get a boyfriend and suddenly don’t have time for your other friends? I’m seriously hurt_

Nate almost uses the pandemic as an excuse but instead, replies, _yes now leave us alone_

Gabe replies with a number of heartbroken emojis and Nate finishes making turkey meatballs.

“I wasn’t planning to stay in the cabin for this long,” André admits, stirring a pot of boiling spaghetti sauce. “Not until you came along.”

“Sorry for the change of plans,” Nate says honestly.

André shakes his head, smiling. “Nah, it’s fine. I rather stay here with you anyway.” Nate’s heart swells at that and Nate stands on his tip toes to plant a kiss on André’s cheek.

“Good. Because I’m not leaving anytime soon,” Nate murmurs and turns André around to face him, and kisses him properly.

**Author's Note:**

> [ my tumblr, feel free to leave prompts or say hi ](https://buwakinnon.tumblr.com/)


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